


Root Canal

by TheBlondeRecluse



Category: Creepypasta - Fandom
Genre: Blood and Gore, Gore, Horror, Psychological Horror
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-07
Updated: 2015-04-07
Packaged: 2018-03-21 19:06:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3702641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBlondeRecluse/pseuds/TheBlondeRecluse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to Cavity Vash. You have a nice smile...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Root Canal

        The drive from the club was long. The blur of city lights remained in sight, though the two of them were traveling into the woods just on the outskirts. Soon even the sunspots they left faded into the dark woods.  
        “Where are we going already--um...Uh…?” The man slurred, forgetting the name of his companion for the night. The woman chuckled sweetly and placed a hand on his leg while she drove.  
        “Shhh...I told you already. We’re going back to my place.” Something about the way she said that sent shivers down his spine and made him completely forget that he had yet to even learn her name.  
        Jerry hadn’t been having the best night. He’d been hitting on a woman all night, loosened her up with a few drinks and right when he thought he had her right in the palm of his hand, he said the wrong thing and ended up getting slapped, with nothing to show for his hard work.  
        As he sat at the bar nursing the hand print on his cheek and sulking, he was brought a drink from the bartender. The purchaser of said drink flicked her wrist in a wave and gave him a warm smile. Jerry could believe it. Compared to her, the women he usually got were pigs. Long stylishly cut raven hair, stunning green eyes, dark red lips and lightly tanned skin. The woman's clothes were just the cherry on top. The shirt, and pants were normal enough, though the jacket was another story. She was wearing a long thigh length coat made out of some type of leathery material that had stitching running all over it in sections. Each section of material was slightly different colored than the next ranging from light beige to a few dark brown sections, and everything in between. You can tell a lot about someone by their clothes, and what Jerry got was that she was freaky. He couldn’t believe his luck. He never got chances like these.  
        At first he could barely contain himself, but now he was growing irritated for having to wait.  
        “How much longer?!” He growled. Had he know the drive to her place would’ve been this long he would’ve insisted on a hotel. The hand on his legs grip tightened, and he felt her nails dig in his skin through his jeans. Though her facial expression hardly changed from the sweetly seductive expression she had wore all night.  
        “Not long.” She responded. Jerry nodded a little and she released his leg.  
        Soon, through half lidded eyes Jerry spotted what looked like an old trailer at the end of the road. From the overgrown plants all around and even growing up the sides of the shack, he wouldn't have guessed someone lived there. Jerry vaguely felt as though he shouldn’t have come here, but as the woman cut the engine and stepped out of the vehicle, all his apprehension vanished. Jerry had some trouble with with his seatbelt, but eventually got out of the car. As he stumbled hopelessly trying to follow the woman he began to regret drinking so much at the club, and hoped he wouldn’t forget everything in the morning. He finally caught up to the woman at the steps of the trailer’s entrance. She took him by the hand and lead him into the dark trailer. Jerry could barely keep his hands contained to himself at this point. Then he felt her release his hand. He could barely see and was about to step towards her general direction when he heard a small voice.  
        “Mama?” Jerry turned his head to face where the small voice had squeaked from. Hiding behind what Jerry assumed was a couch he could see the small silhouette of a child.  _What? She has a brat?_  Jerry was about to reproach the woman when her voice interjected.  
        “Just a moment, Vash.” Was the last thing Jerry heard right before something struck the back of his head, and he crumpled to the floor.  
          
        Pain.

        The back of Jerry’s head felt as though a bowling ball was trying to break through it. He couldn’t quite pinpoint where, but parts of his body were stinging with so much pain it felt as though his whole body was burning. His muscles were like lead, and it seemed like he needed to put in a great effort just to make his eyes drift open. At first he was only met with blinding white, and the thought passed that he had died, but then his eyes adjusted to show that he was in fact in a well lit room. And he wasn’t alone.  
        Over him loomed the terrified teary eyes face of the child Vash, and his mother. Vash was wearing an oversized grey sweatshirt, and was trying to hide himself into a long tan scarf he had wrapped around his neck and the lower half of his face. In a shaky hand he held something that, Jerry couldn’t quite see. His mother was looking down at him with a stern expression. Vash shook his head frantically.  
        “N-no! I-I can’t!” He whimpered.  
        “You can. Just like I showed you.” She commanded without emotion. Vash snapped his gaze to Jerry, his eyes full of terror and distress. He stared for a moment with shaking limbs, then snapped his gaze back to his mother. He once again pleaded and muttered he couldn’t and while his mother calmly tried to reassure him he could and that it was okay. Then Vash threw his head back and wailed.  
        “Nooo!” He cried.  
        The mothers eyes softened for a moment with sympathy. Then in the blink of an eye she snatched his arm and pulled it closer to her. Vash started to panic and frantically tried to free himself from her grip as she reached behind her and grabbed something from a table. Jerry wasn’t totally sure what was going on, but with every moment as he barely clung to consciousness he watched the scene in front of him with confusion. Vash’s mother held the tiny six year-year-olds arm with a strong yet gentle grip as he tried to wiggle out of her grasp. Then what she had grabbed off the table came into sight as she held a syringe to the childs now exposed skin. The woman sent her son a dark glare that made him stop struggling the second metal touched skin. Jerry felt himself go cold as the disturbing action took place. He didn’t know what was in the syringe, but the murkiness of it reminded him of some weird hippy herbal tea he tried back in high school.  
        The syringe was drained and retracted from his wrist. The change was frightening. Vash’s quick nervous breathing slowly changed to a deep almost seething. His entire demeanor changed. He went from a little kid about to have a breakdown, to on the verge of a tantrum.  
        “Vash.” Almost in a daze he turned toward his mother, who had a hand held out, and handed her what was in his hand. Jerry’s eyesight sharpened, and he became more conscious and alert when he noticed the blood all over their hands. Vash handed her a scalpel.  
        “Now, watch and pay attention.” The mother instructed to make sure he was in fact paying attention. The boy was calmer than before, but still seemed to be adjusting to the herbal drug he had been injected with. The mother then brought the scalpel to Jerry’s arm. He still couldn’t move, and couldn’t see what she was doing, but he was conscious enough to feel everything. He felt something still across his right arm, followed by an intense pain burning and tearing feeling. The woman then held up something square and bloody.  
        It was his skin.  
        She had just cut and peeled off a square patch of skin the size of a napkin off his arm.  
        “See?” It was then that Jerry realized what her jacket was made from… Different patches of skin. The woman then slid the scalpel across his other arm.  
        “I started you out, now you try. Just like I did.” She said. Vash then looked directly into Jerry’s eyes. Slowly a wide deranged smile spread across his face.  
        “...He’s awake now.” He chuckled darkly, then instead of swiftly peeling the spin off, viciously dug his fingers into the cut along his arms and tore off skin and meat from the bone, then proceeded to present the butchered slab of flesh to his mother with a disturbing smirk on his face.  
        Jerry didn’t have the strength to move or scream. The only comfort he had was the fact that he couldn’t actually see what they were doing to him aside from what was removed. The only thing at this point he wished for was that he had the strength to at least keep his eyes shut. The image of the mother’s face full of calm rage as she taught her son how to be a murderer, and Vash’s face full of utter insanity as they skinned Jerry alive stained his memory until the end.

        On Bakers street there lied a tan house. It seemed completely unharmed. An average family home. A bunk bed in one of the rooms, pictures everywhere, and a neat white carpeted living room so clean it was almost to a neurotic point. Nothing was off...Unless you entered the dining room.  
        Spread across the table a fat man was cut open and sprawled out the length of table. His skin had been skillfully peeled off and set on the table in place of a tablecloth, and several plates laid on top, that had different body parts and organs lying on them. Several of his bones were laid out on fancy cloth napkins like silverware, and his intestines were lying in a bowl filled with blood. The center piece was his completely hollowed out chest cavity  that had a few lit candles sticking out of it. And of course the piece de resistance, lying on a large plate at the head of the table with an apple crammed in his throat, though missing his bottom jaw, was the mans head.  
        For the final touch Vash swiftly plucked the correct tooth from his necklace and crammed it back into the spot he had tore it from weeks earlier. Vash chuckled as he examined his work, then left once all of the “left overs” were wrapped up in the fridge. Just as he was about to three houses away he heard a car pull into a driveway, shortly followed by a few blood curdling screams. It made him chuckle. As he turned the corner he dropped something into a sewage drain. From his pocket he examined what looked to be a duplicate of what he had just disposed of. Only this one was fresher. A glove made from the skin of the recently deceased man. Though he’d never wear it during an  _act_ , leaving the prints of the deceased sure did screw with the cops.  
        “Heheh, they won’t be thankful for much this year.”  
        After cleaning up at an empty rest station, Vash considered going back to the barn outta town he was staying in. With a smirk he decided to scope the town out instead, A few hours later, after growing bored of everything, Vash reached into his pocket and pulled out one of the dollar bills he had nabbed from the man’s wallet earlier, and approached a soda vendor to get a drink. As he waited for his drink to be dispensed, someone else approached the vendor as well. For no particular reason he glanced up. It was a young girl in expensive clothing who looked to be in her mid twenties. She gave a smile in acknowledgement. It caught his attention. Slowly he smirked back, in an unsettling sort of way that caught the girls attention.  
        “You have a nice smile…” Was all he said, then grabbed his soda and walked off before she could say anything else.

        Work had completey sucked, Chanel thought as she drove to her apartment. Her boss had made her work later than usual for no extra pay; just for her to sit at a counter doing nothing for three hours in the in the bleak hopes that a customer would wander in at ten at night for a fitting. Her eyes rolled as she thought of what an idiot her boss is. As Chanel had at last made it to her apartment building, she was distraught to find her parking spot had been taken. Growling, she circled around until she found a spot, almost as far away as possible from her apartment.  
        Chanel opened her car door and instantly became enveloped in cold. The cold nights air made the walk uncomfortable. The back of her neck stuttered with every small gust of wind.  _This sucks…_  She thought as she threw away a now empty soda can she had in her car from lunch as she passed a trash can before scaling the outdoor stairs. Again Chanel felt another chill go down her neck. Suddenly she felt paranoid. It didn’t feel like a cold chill, something wasn’t right. Chanel whipped around and stared down the stairs frantically searching the area. No one was there. The parking lot was void of life aside from herself. Chanel gave herself a soft smack on the side of the face.  _Get it out of your_   _head. It’s just the wind._ She had calmed herself some by the time she at last reached the door to her apartment on the third floor. Inside she could hear her cat meowing. He must be hungry. Though, as soon as she opened the door, her cat hissed, then bolted away as fast as he could.  
        “Dunkin?” Chanel called, utterly baffled by the odd behavior.  
        Chanel set her purse down, closed the door, then began turning on the lights in pursuit of her cat. In every room she called out to the frightened feline in the hopes of coaxing him out of hiding. She didn’t know why Dunkin had gotten spooked, but when she shook up a bag of cat food and filled his dish, and he still didn’t come out, it worried her. After looking through her room she decided to check the livivng room. As she made her way over she noticed that the front door wasn’t closed completely. Shrugging it off, she crossed over and closed it all the way. Getting back on track, she entered the living room.  
        “Dunkin, here kitty! Kitty!” She called. “Dunkin!”  
        When he didn’t come she dropped to her hands and knees and looked under the couch. There he was, ears flat, and crouched as far away as possible against the wall. She tried to coax him out, but he again hissed, and even swiped at Chanel when she tried to reach for him. He never tried to scratch her before. What was wrong with him? In a flash, the frightened cat ran out from under the couch so fast he left claw marks on the hardwood floor. Chanel was about to go after him, when a paralyzing chill ran down her spine. Eyes wide and frozen, something wasn’t right. She hadn’t regained her senses in time.  
        Suddenly everything went black as she was jerked back roughly by a blindfold. Chanel shrieked and tried to tear the tightly wrapped blindfold as she was thrown to the floor and quickly subdued. She couldn’t see anything, but could feel the intruder was straddling her torso with her arms pinned to her sides by their legs. All she could do was kick and scream in the bleak hopes of escaping. When it became apparent that she couldn’t escape, and that no one was coming to help her, Chanel’s screams turned to fearful whimpers and crying.  
        “What do you want?” She sobbed. “Please, y-you can take anything but please don’t hurt me…”  
        A low masculine chuckled came from the intruder as Chanel felt a hand clamp onto her jaw and pry her mouth open. Chanel tried to shake her head free of his grasp in terror of what was to come. She couldn’t even move her head with the grip he had. When that failed she tried her best to keep pleading for him to stop. To her horror she felt something enter her mouth. She tried to bite down or shake away when his fingers clamped onto her right canine tooth, but couldn’t do anything with the grip he had on her jaw.  
        She heard it before she felt it.  
        A loud disturbing crackling noise. Then the pain kicked in, burning through her mouth and burrowing deeply into her skull. She screamed in agony as he worked, and slowly tore through all the blood vessels. Then the blood blood poured in with a suctioned ‘pop’ in place of where her tooth had just been.

        “You have a visitor.” A guard called from a small hatch on the thick door. She opened her eyes and looked at the small windowless room she was confined to. Her eyes fell of the seldom used television set in the corner of the room. One of the few privileges she was allowed.  
        She knew exactly who it was.  
        Quickly she made herself presentable, then allowed herself to be lead through the ward to see her visitor. Leaning back casually in a chair on the other end of thick glass was her son. Presented proudly around his neck was a fresh tooth tied into his necklace.  
        “Hello Vash.” She said indifferently.  
        “Hello.” He replied. And so the idle talk began. He asked her questions about life in the mental ward she had been sentenced to, and she complied with short direct answers. After a little while, Vash simply began talking about anything and everything. His mother listened as she thought.  
        Eight years.  
        It had been eight years since the seductress had been caught. Too many dead bodies found, and jacket, the length of a trench coat down to her ankles, was all evidence needed to confirm her as the murderer. She remembered seeing a 9-year-old Vash half hidden in the distance watching as she was taken into custody. A dark glare was all it took for him to hide completely, never to be found, or known of.  
        The years apart had not been unkind to him. The seductress looked him over in admiration. His hair, eyes, and complexion were different from hers, though his features resembled his almost exactly. If he had learned one thing from her, she hoped it would be how to use those to his advantage. Vash continued to talk about having a vehicle break down and practically having to  _take it apart_  completely. Though in the end, it died. Nothing could possibly have been done. His mother didn’t even have to think to understand. The guards had been listening to them talk. He wasn’t talking about a truck, he was carefully discussing the details of one of his victims.  
        The seductress glanced to the side toward the guards. They seemed to have lost suspicion of their conversation and were talking among each other. It had worked. She took this as a chance to cut in.  
        “I saw your work on the news.” She stated. The day before she felt oddly compelled to use her tv set. She watched different stations all day until she found something that caught her interest. The evening new. A man had been slaughtered and placed on the table like a feast while his  family were out shopping for the following days supplies. Slowly a deranged smile spread across Vash’s face. He chuckled.\  
        “...Happy Thanksgiving.” He stated.  
        His mother gave a soft smile, her eyes were drawn to the teeth on his necklace, and then to the inner lining of his jacket. The well taken care of sewn together patches of skin she had sewn into the coat years ago. Vash continued to chuckle quietly, until she noticed his eyes freeze in the distance. The change occurred slowly. His expression became blank as he looked around the room and took in his surroundings. His breathing became quicker and the distress in his eyes became evident. Her expression softened when he at last looked upon her. At first he flinched, then relaxed slightly when he recognized who she was. He again glanced around the room on his side of the glass, then started nervously glancing between her and the open space he had. As if not sure if he wanted to run, or scoot closer his chair in closer to her.  
        She never quite understood why this timid side had never went away. Though she had stopped drugging him years ago, the effects never completely wore off. The outcome of being raised in madness; Vash had been left with a split personality, neither side taking dominance. The switch seemed to always come and go randomly. It was like having two sons, she regarded with warmth. She watched with interest as Vash began bundling up by buttoning his coat and wrapping himself in his scarf. It was good to see each other on the Holidays.

        ...Even if it was one of her teeth dangling from his neck.


End file.
